Chapter One - The Witching Hour
Mary Maddam was bored but also worried. It had been well over a week now that she’d been kept in this “horrible horse-spit-and’-tell” as she called it; although, in truth, it really wasn’t that horrible at all. It was a clean and orderly hospital, and the nurses in fact were all quite nice.
The Matron though, was something else. Matron McCracken was of the ‘old school’, a real spare the rod and spoil the child sort of tyrant; all strict discipline and total adherence to hospital rules; rules that were always to be immediately obeyed and without any question.
But it wasn’t the tyrannical Matron or the tedium of the daily routine of the place that was really getting to her. It was the absence of her new best friend Roger. As expected, he’d been discharged from the hospital the day after they’d both arrived, and she hadn’t seen hide or hair of him since.
He had managed to visit her just the once though, the day he’d left, just before being picked up by his angry Father, Councilor Briggs. And in those brief minutes Mary had managed to give Roger the Dragon’s Egg — the extremely precious Egg of the, as-yet unhatched, Dragon Prince, Regor Yram. The Egg they’d just rescued from the Dragon’s Cavern and very nearly died for. Roger had quickly concealed the rock-like Egg within his overnight hospital bag. His bully of a Father had then come storming into the ward, loudly complaining to the agitated nurses.
“I'm not having my son mix with this sort of riff-raff.” he’d yelled, “that ragamuffin, that ‘Mad’ Maddam girl, is a bad influence on my boy. How dare you let her anywhere near him?”
The Ward Sister had hurried over and tried to calm him down the best she could, but by then he was in full swing and there was just no stopping him.
“Get the Matron here at once!” he’d angrily demanded of the Sister. “You know who I am, don’t you? I demand to see the Matron at once, do you hear?” The cowed Sister had then obediently run off to find the Matron.
However, despite his Father’s grandstanding histrionics and while he’d been distracted with such, Roger had quietly kissed Mary on the cheek, saying not to worry and had quickly told her, “It’s alright, Mary. I’ll look after Regor and I’ll come back and visit you as soon as I can.”
Mary of course had done her best to ignore the very rude and personal attack on her from Mr. Briggs. Before their wild adventures, into the Bad Wood and the Dragon’s Cave and everything that followed, she would have been a lot more sensitive about it. But she was now made of much sterner stuff, as indeed was the budding young scientist, Roger.
Just as Roger was leaving the ward, with Regor now safely hidden in his bag, she’d clearly heard the unborn baby Dragon telepathically calling out to her. “Don’t yous wowwy Marewee, it’ll be awwight, pwomise! I’ll look after Wodjer an’ we’ll all be backs toogevva soons, okays?”
But with baby Regor’s talking ability still not being fully developed it meant that she had to take extra-special care to work out exactly what he was saying. Mary was still getting used to their new telepathic ability, kicking in whenever they were near the baby dragon. This and other inconceivable abilities had been bestowed to them by the great Sim Sivad through a powerful bond to True-Dragon Magick. But this was just one of the many differences their recent adventures had made.
Then all mayhem erupted. Matron McCracken had arrived!
“What is the meaning of this?” she’d bellowed. “This Maddam girl has caused a great deal of trouble and has led this poor boy astray. He is not to be further infected by her low morals and despicable behavior. Do I make myself clear?”
Then of course the Ward Sister and the Nurses had been given another severe telling off, and all in front of the patients too. Mary then saw Mr. Briggs speaking to Matron McCracken as he left, dragging Roger with him.
Mary couldn’t quite hear all they’d said though, just a few words here and there. Matron had said something about “taking the necessary steps” and Mr. Briggs had gruffly replied, “Well, see that you do, Matron. The Special Under Lundun Council is relying on you!”
She briefly wondered what the S.U.L.C. was. “Never heard of that one before!” she thought. But then her Gran had turned up. Mary could see her looking for her through the ward door windows. Then she chuckled to herself. “That’s a right laugh, me poor ol’ Gran’s lookin’ across the Ward, tryin’ to find her Ward!”
But then it wasn’t funny anymore. Mary saw that two big orderlies had marched up, along with Matron McCracken, who now seemed to be forcefully steering her Gran away from the ward.
For a moment Mary couldn’t see what was happening at all, but then a few seconds later she heard a loud scream and her Gran then reappeared at the door and stepped briskly into the ward. She brushed herself down and made her way towards Mary’s bed, holding a bag of grapes and waving at her with a big, beaming smile on her round, red and friendly face.
“Sorry about that dear,” she said, “seems there was some sort of a mix up as to who I was and whether I was actually allowed to visit. No worries though; it’s all sorted now. That ‘orrible McCrackers woman seems to have taken ill and those big fellas have wandered off. Oh well!”
And so, the first of Gran’s daily visits had taken place, and strangely, no hide or hair of Matron McCracken had been seen in the Ward since. But that had been a week ago and Mary still hadn’t heard a word from Roger, or Regor the unborn baby Dragon either. Her Gran, as her only legal family member, had been her sole visitor, and this at least had been of some comfort; despite the fact they’d both been on edge regarding talking about what had happened that past weekend.
Mary wanted to tell her Gran all about her adventures though and actually tell her everything. But she didn’t know how to begin. Strangely enough, Grannie Madden had the same problem. But after Mary had been in hospital a few days, her Gran came to the ward, just as she’d always done, right after lunch, and sat down by her bed. But this time, she didn’t start chattering on about the latest doings of Jemima, their pet Parrot or Jerry the Cat, or about her aches and pains and the ointments and potions she’d been brewing. No, this time she just sat down in silence and then gave Mary a wet kiss on the forehead, and after a few coughs, finally said, “Well, I think it’s time we have a chinwag now, me dearie; some proper talkin’ I means, don’t you?” Then she winked at her, sighed, took a big breath and continued, “Yes, it's time that we both levels with one another an’ no fibbin’ now, dear, agreed?”
Mary nodded, and Grannie Maddam smiled and then softly said, “Now, me dearie, I knows quite a lot about Dragons, I does, an’ a lot more besides. Lots I knows an’ lots I don’t, but I knows a lot more than all these ‘ere daft humdrums put together, an’ that’s a fact!” She paused, ensuring that Mary was getting her gist. “You gets me gist now, girl, don’tcha?” She slyly winked.
Mary just nodded, dumbstruck. “What?” she thought, “Could her dear, ol’ Grannie really know about Dragons and the Under Erf, and everything?” she gasped to herself, looking at her with wide, new-seeing eyes.
“B-b-but Gran, how?” she stammered. “How do you know? I didn’t know anything ‘bout Dragons myself until last weekend. An’ I wanted to tell you; tell you everything that’s happened, but I didn’t know where to start.” Then she turned away, she really didn’t want to say anything that might hurt her Gran’s feelings, but then she pressed on and told her the truth: “And, well, I didn’t know if you’d believe me anyway! What if you thought I was mad, j-j-just like ‒ well, just like mum was s’posed to be? I’m sorry Gran; you won’t think I’m mad will you; you’ll believe me, won’t you?”
“Now, now, me sweet cheeks, don’t you fret so,” Gran softly answered, taking one of Mary’s hands in her brown and wrinkled ones. “If you tells me that you ain’t breathin’ no word of a lie to me, then I’ll be doin’ the same fer yous, we agreed, girl?”
Mary just nodded dumbly in agreement.
“We’re gonna both be hearin’ some strange things that these ‘ere Humdrums have no tiddler-ticklin’ idea of; well most of ’em at least. So, we’re agreed, eh? No fibs between us, OK?” Now who wants to go first on tellin’ our tales then?”
“Oh Gran!” Mary burst out, nearly in tears, “I do love you so. You go first please.”
“OK, Dearie, I’ll tell yous a wee bit ‘bout me but then you tells me all o’ yours, alright?”
“Alright Gran, fair enough,” Mary replied. “How much on Dragons do you know then?”
“Well, as to how much I knows, there’s no proper answer to that one, dearie, is there? How long’s a knitted rope, not yet finished. And just how many honey bees makes an hive, eh? Or what’s the wetter ‒ water or tears?” She then paused and gave a quick look about her to make sure no one was in earshot. “The straight an’ simple truth of it is, dear ‒ and now you’ll have to believe me this time Mary ‒ is that, well … I’m what they calls around here … a Witch!”
Several seconds went by. Mary just looked at her Gran, her mouth agape like a fresh caught cod. She didn’t know what to say. Gran wasn’t joking. Mary could tell. She was telling the truth!
“So’s I can deal with meddling Matrons an’ the likes with a bit o’ the old ‘influence’, an’ I can sees through disguises as well, yer know; what’s a rock an’ what’s an egg, juss fer instance!”
“You know about Regor!” Mary gasped incredulously.
“Nope, didn’t know his name exactly; but nowz I do I s’pose.”
She then squeezed Mary’s hand and brought her voice down to a whisper. “We Maddams come from a long line of Witches, truth to tell, but I meself ‘aven’t been doin’ much in the ol’ Witchin’ game fer some years now. ‘Specially not since yer poor mother fell afoul of the Witchery Woes. But even before then. I ain’t been what you’d call a real practicing Witch. Least, not since I left the Forest of The Mad Jester, up North. way back when your mum was but a wee little girl.”
“Oh, wow Gran! So, do all witches know about the Dragons and the worlds of the Under Erf then?” Mary asked. “Is that how you know about it, coz you’re a Witch?”
“Well, yes and no,” Gran answered. “You sees, dearie, Witches get educated too yer know; not at Witch school necessarily but educated nonetheless. Some also gets ter specialize. But we all gets to know sumfin of the Under Erf and the Dragons an’ the Core Beasts an’ such. We gets to know even more about the Great Forests and the domains of the Tree Kings too.”
“Oh my!” Mary exclaimed. “That’s wonderful, Gran! But what did you mean when you said about mum getting the Witchin’ Woes, what are they then?”
“Witchery Woes is what we calls ‘em, dear. A person can sort of get lost in the world of Faerie yer see; they can go to places an’ not find their ways back. Especially if they are so very aggrieved an’ so heart-broke, like your poor Ma was!”
“Oh Gran!” was all that Mary could say to that. Despite Gran’s willingness to answer so many questions, she now found she had at least three new ones for every old one she had asked. She felt she could burst with so much to ask and so much to take in all at once.
“Look ‘ere, Mary me dear, there’s a real awful lots I could tell yers but there’s no rush. Every day you’re in ‘ere I’ll visits and I’ll tell yer more and’ you can do the same, fair enough?”
“Fair enough, Gran,” Mary answered, grinning.
“Righto, ducks! Now why don’t you tell me your story now, in your own time and in your own way ‒ and from the beginning, eh?”
And so, Mary did just that. She told her everything. Grannie Maddam heard how Mary had that last Saturday accidentally bumped into Roger; escaping from the Cold ‘Arbor Gang across the River Quaggy and into the forbidden Bad Wood. Then later, how brave Roger had been, climbing down to the Dragon’s Cave to save her; and how he’d worked out how to escape the Cave and take her and the precious Egg to the surface.
Gran listened quietly and patiently, becoming increasingly enthralled and amazed at her young Granddaughter’s many adventures with her unlikely hero and new friend, Roger Briggs.
“Seems to me this friend of yours is a special sort of boy, I’d say,” Gran said, as Mary told her all about his daring and courageous journey to rescue her and bring her and the Dragon’s Egg back home safe, against all the odds.
Mary fervently agreed and continued, telling her all about the two evil Fire-Worm Lords of the Core, Lords Morgrave and Morgrim, and their relentless attempts to trap and kill them both, all in order to get hold of the Last Dragon’s Egg.
“Hmmm, now that’s very interesting indeed!” Gran muttered, her eyes wide with wonder.
Then Mary explained all about their telepathic powers and their meeting with the old Tree King and the inky Night Imp and the terrible Forest Fire and all about her experiences with Gaia the Great Erf Spirit and everything they had said and done together; as best as she could remember it anyway. It was all pouring out now in a great, breathless gush.
“I see, I see,” Grannie Maddam said, scratching at her chin with a bright gleam in her eye. “So, you have met the Great Erf Mother too have you, my dear? Now you really have been blessed, my child, yes, yes, very blessed indeed!”
But now Grannie Maddam could see that Mary was looking particularly upset at this point.
“What is it, dear, what’s troubling you?” she asked.
Mary was once again remembering, with a fresh pang of loss and great grief in her heart, the tragic fall of the courageous Night Imp Nimp, standing all alone on the side of Hooters Hill, taunting and teasing and doing his very best to distract the Fire-Worm Lords from catching them.
“He gave his life to save ours…” she said, in a barely audible whisper.
“I understand, dear,” Gran gently murmured, “you have indeed been blessed with the very best of friends. But don’t despair, me girl. Just remembers yer lessons from the Great Erf Mother. The Spirit is eternal after all.”
After a little while, Mary was able to finish her story, telling her last but not least, about the Great Queen of Dragons, Sivam Sivad who they had fondly called Mavis and how she had entrusted them with the last Dragon Egg. She then solemnly told her of how the brave Mavis had fought King Morgrave and then self-combusted. Then she spoke of how she had at last returned to them as a beautiful Dragon Spirit, soaring into the flaming dawn sky with the Dance of the Dragon Souls, whirling all about her.
“Oh, it was the most saddest and also most beautiful thing I’ve ever, ever seen Gran!” she sighed, remembering. “And after Mavis had sent that brilliant, white flare shooting up into the night sky, well, it was then that the helicopter found us, and we were all saved … and, and … well, here we all are, with a Royal Dragon’s Egg to hatch somehow.” Mary finally finished and sat silent.
“Yes, here we are indeedy.” Grannie Maddam muttered. “You have given me much to think on, Mary, me girl. And I will definitely make some enquiries about your Roger and Regor. We needs ter look out fer each other now. I’ll find out what’s what an’ what’s been keeping him from yers fer sure. I’ll gets off now though, but I’ll be back as usual fer tomorrow and we’ll talk some more then, OK, dear?”
“OK Gran, and thanks for being here for me … and for believing me!”
“Of course I believes yer, child! There’s nothing yer’ve told me is of the least surprise to me. Just don’t go barking this stuff off to anyone else as they surely won’t believe ya!”
With that Grannie Maddam kissed her and was gone. Mary didn’t quite believe her last remark though. But she did look forward to hearing news about Roger and Regor, and of course more about Gran herself too; and maybe even some answers about her poor mum one day.
The next day was Friday and Grannie Maddam, much to Mary’s alarm, came a lot later than usual and it was now Mary who could tell that there was something up. As Gran pulled her chair over to the bed, Mary could see she seemed sad and very subdued. She looked tired and old and not at all her usual chirpy self.
“Hello, Gran. It’s your turn now,” Mary burbled to her as cheerfully as she could muster; “I can’t wait to hear all about you being a Witch and how you became one, and … and …”
Mary’s enthusiasm drained away as she noticed the tears now welling up in her old Gran’s eyes. “Oh, Gran, what is it? Have you heard something about Roger? Have you found out why he hasn’t visited me? Is Regor OK? Is it bad, is that what it is … is that what’s upsetting you?”
Grannie Maddam silently took her beloved Granddaughter’s hands and held them tightly in hers. Then, with great effort, she finally told her the dreadful news.
“Yes, Mary, we’ve ‘ad some news an’ it’s not good at all. But it’s not really about Roger or Regor ...a little bird told me what’s goin’ on there. Roger has been under virtual house arrest an’ that’s why yous or I ‘aven’t ‘ad a peep from him. An’ I also think it’s very likely connected.” She now paused, trying to muster up the will to tell her beloved Granddaughter the awful news. “Yes, but ‒ well, dearie,” she continued painfully, “’ere it is… it’s like this, it seems the Local Council Authority ‘ave issued orders for the demolition of our Caravan!”
“Oh no! That’s terrible. They Can’t do that!” Mary cried out, in great alarm.
“Yes, b-b-but that’s not all, Mary, there’s more I’m afraid. Now do be brave, dear!”
“Oh! Wh-wh-what is it, Gran? What else has happened?”
“Well, well… facts is this, they also says that the Social Police Services will be putting me in a Home for the Elderly and the Infirm and at the same time they’ll be taking yous off into custody too, for, for… appropriate placement in a Home for Wayward Girls and Orphans!”
There was a stunned silence. Mary lay paralyzed on the bed, shrinking into her pillows in total shock. She couldn’t say a thing for several minutes. She gulped and croaked and bit on her lip, trying her hardest not to burst into tears. She knew if she did that then the nurse would notice and if there was much fuss, then the Ward Sister would get involved, and even then, God help them, Matron McCracken. So, she choked back her tears and let her Gran stroke her hair.
Grannie Madden then quietly continued. “I got the nasty letter, all formal an’ official, juss this morning, Mary’, an’ it says that you’ll be sent direct to the Home from the Hospital, as soon as yer well enough and they’ll be comin’ ter take me away too ter put me in a home for the elderly an’ the feeble minded, or some such, this comin’ Monday. An’ they says there’s no pets allowed neither!”
Mary sat bolt upright in her bed and flung her arms around her Gran and held on to her for dear life, just as tightly as she could, and then desperately sobbed into her bosom.
“They can’t do it, Gran. They can’t split us up like that. We just can’t let ‘em do it!”
